Die A Little Death
by Splinter Cell
Summary: Draco tries to make sense of his feelings for his father after the latter dies. Read and Review and I will love you forever and ever and ever! Flames will be ignored ;)


Die A Little Death

Author: Vada

Disclaimer: Anything to do with JK Rowling's series is nothing to do with me.

Rating: G/PG – minor character death!

Spoiler: Pretty sure this hasn't happened yet but you never know.

Feedback: allana_linn_Vegas@hotmail.com

Archive: You really want it? Have it but tell me.

Genre: Angst.

Author notes: Just an idea that popped into my head and kept stamping on neurones until I relented and wrote it down.

Summary: Draco's thoughts after his father's death.

   I thought I'd be glad when he died. 

   Relieved, at least.

   No more taunts, or threats, or being beaten because his only child, his only _son_, wasn't good enough to be a Malfoy.

   Except I don't feel glad, or relieved, or anything like that.

   I feel…sad. Empty. Bereft.

   He never told me. In sixteen years he never told me he loved me or that he was proud of me. Time after time he told me that I was a failure and the worst thing that had ever happened to him but never once did he ever say anything positive to or about me.

   Until the day he died.

   Voldemort wanted him to kill me – I was to be the price that he had to pay if he wanted to be accepted once again as a Death Eater.

   And he couldn't do it. 

   He couldn't look at me and his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the knife.

**   He. Couldn't. Do. It.**

   So Voldemort killed him.

   In front of me.

   Left him to die in my arms with his blood staining his silver hair and his cold grey eyes clouded by agony.

   And he told me. 

   Dying in my arms, he told me.

    Told me that he was proud of me, his son and that the day of my birth had been the happiest day of his life.

_   He told me that he loved me._

   And I knew, _then_, what he'd been trying to do all these years. He'd been trying to protect me, keep me safe from the legacy of Dark Magic that was mine to inherit.      

   He'd been scared, _terrified_, that I'd follow in his footsteps like a dutiful son and turn out a cold hearted fiend. A monster. A Death Eater.

   So that I could live, he turned me against him, did anything, _every_thing, to stop me becoming like him even though it killed him, having to hurt his own son and seeing his own child grow to hate him.

   And I never got to tell him that I didn't hate him then, even as he hurt me again and again, I didn't hate him. And now he's dead and the unfairness of it all chokes me up inside and twists into an ugly hard knot of anguish in my chest making it hard to even breathe.

   'It gets better.' 

   I don't look up, _can't_ look up and see the pity in my archrival's eyes. Because if I did, I think I'd snap, somehow, go **c-r-a-z-y** in some way. So I give a non-committal grunt and hope that he goes away and leaves me alone. 

   Which he does for minute or two.

   Does it really Potter? Does the pain _ever_ go? I guess it does subside eventually as the wound in the soul heals and is replaced by roughened and unfeeling scar tissue.

   We get better by going numb but I don't think that'll work with the guilt, do you?

   'He's knows, Draco.'

   'Huh?'

   'He knows.'

   I look at him and he misinterprets my shock for anger. 'Po – _Harry_?' 

   'Yeah?'

   '…Thanks…'

   I used his parents' deaths against him. _I used them to hurt him._

   He comforted me.

   What does that make me?

   My mother's taking it better than I am, getting on with organising the estate, getting on and organising her _life_.

   She has a talent for Divination, a flair for it if you will. She knew about this for at least sixteen years, most probably longer. She married him because she loved him; she married him knowing about this.

   I don't think I'd be able to do that.

   I never really knew anything about my parents did I? He told me he loved me, on the day he died.

   I know myself though, I can everything, and a lot of what I'm seeing isn't all that pretty. I know what I want though.

   I wish that Lucius Malfoy were still alive.

   I _want_ my father back.

_   I miss you Dad._


End file.
